


Anything you want

by BoomyMcBlasty



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Self-Denial, can work with both male and female charnames, no beta we die like men, soft, you can pet the dog, your OC here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoomyMcBlasty/pseuds/BoomyMcBlasty
Summary: “Bad dreams?” you ask.Astarion clicks his tongue. “By the Hells, no. Dreaming is not for me.” He then sighs theatrically.So you were right—he wants to share something with you. You lean over, giving him your full attention.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Male Character(s), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Astarion/Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 130





	Anything you want

_ Astarion is beautiful _ , you think idly to yourself.

It’s not a particularly novel thought; watching him sit crossed-legged with the most perfect posture you’ve ever seen simply makes it resurface with a vengeance. If only—

Scratch bumps your hand with his wet nose. “Sorry, bud,” you whisper apologetically as you resume patting the dog. He decided to curl up next to you and rest his head on your leg, a silent demand for ear rubs.

Scratch’s eyes end up on Astarion. “You know…” His magically projected voice is low like a whisper. “Sometimes he smells like you.”

You frown. “Like what?”

Astarion occasionally helps you stand on your feet after a particularly hard blow—you do the same, and while you’d like to think that his touch lingers, it’s not enough for your scent to transfer to him and vice versa.

Scratch hides his face in your leg. “Oops.”

Astarion is looking at you with irritation. “Do you mind?” His shoulders relax and he brushes a silver curl out of his forehead. “I can hardly blame you for being restless, but—” He tilts his head. “ What are you even doing?”

“Keeping watch,” you answer. You’ve done a lousy job so far.

“I thought it was Wyll’s turns.” His remark is neutral, measured.

You shrug. “Two is better than one.”

The campfire makes Astarion’s angled features more pronounced. You lower your eyes and place a hand on Scratch’s forehead—it’s not polite to stare, after all.

“After what you told me in the swamp…” You keep your tone light, conversational. “I decided to stay up and watch your back.”

“Hah!” Astarion’s laugh sounds forced. “My front, you mean—not like I mind, there’s plenty to admire.”

You smile weakly at that. Glad to see that his confidence is not taking a hit. You expect him to talk more, but his posture is again perfect and his eyes closed.

Scratch loudly sniffs the air. “He smells of fear now.” You silently wiggle your fingers on the dog’s neck and he wags his tail. “Should I go over?”

“No, he eats dogs like you for breakfast.”

“ _ Mutts _ like him.” Astarion’s voice startles you. “If you have to imitate my speech, at least do it right.”

You grin apologetically. Instead of making him feel safer, you’re keeping him up —well, Scratch is,  _ technically _ , but you’re not being silent.

Astarion is looking at you without the displeasure you associate with being kept awake. Strange, you can’t actually understand his expression… perhaps he wants to talk.

“Bad dreams?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue. “By the Hells, no. Dreaming is not for me.” He then sighs theatrically. So you were right—he wants to share something with you. You lean over, giving him your full attention.

“I have spent decades of my resting hours coming up with fresh ways to get back to my…  _ sire _ .” Astarion curls his nose. “Mental exercises to keep my sanity, you see.”

He expects you to nod, so you do.

“But now, I can imagine… anything.” His eyes fall on you. “Anything I want.”

His voice is soft, barely a whisper, but his eyes are searing, scarlet like the dancing flames of the campfire.

_ As if. As if you were truly growing on him. _

Scratch raises his head. “Anything, really? Like roast chicken. Oh! Or steak.”

You repeat the dog’s suggestions, rewarding him with more pats. “Like roast chicken or steak.” Something glints in Astarion’s eyes—amusement, you’d like to think. “Or someone overflowing with blood, someone you could feed on for as long as you like.”

He chuckles to be polite. “And where’s the fun in that?” Then he purses his lips together. “But dear, I am  _ appalled  _ you think I am a slave to my urges. There’s more to death than hunger.”

“I never said that.”

He cocks an eyebrow and doesn’t say anything either. Yours wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for. He straightens his shoulders and closes his eyes once again—third time’s the charm—and you resume lazily patting your dog.

What answer was Astarion fishing for? Something intense, probably, the sort of passionate pleas you think but don’t say because your delivery would turn you into laughing stock.

Scratch’s thin fur is velvety under your fingers. You wonder if you’ll ever see Astarion in Scratch’s place—lying down next to you with his head on your lap, talking idly about… murder, probably. He would never do something like that, but that doesn’t make the image less pleasant. Your fingertips tingle at the thought of running through Astarion’s silver hair.

“Hey.” Scratch sniffs the air again. “You smell just like him now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another short thing, but I hope you liked it :) Larian's starving us so I gotta write my own fluff smh


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